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Updated: May 1, 2025
Southart this Staked Plain hain't no endin' till ye git down to the Grand River below its big bend, an' that ain't to be thort o'. By strikin' east, a little southart, we mout reach the head sources o' the Loozyany Red; an' oncest on a stream o' runnin' water, this child kin generally navigate down it, provided he hev a rifle, powder, an' a bullet or two in his pouch.
C. informed me that there was a delightfull and most extensive view of the Ocean, the coast and adjacent country; this Mout. C., the party and Indians with them before the villain had prepaired himself to execute his purposes. The party returned excessively fortiegued and tired of their jaunt. Killamucks river is 85 yards wide, rappid and 3 feet deep in the shallowest part.
"I don't say it would not have done you some good if properly administered," he replied. "If you like I'll put up a diluted quantity and directions?" "That's me, every time, pardner!" said the stranger with an accent of relief. "And look yer, don't you stop at that! Ye just put me up some samples like of anythin' you think mout be likely to hit.
"Look 'ee hyur, boyees!" said Rube, pointing to the motte; "if 'ee look sharp, yur mout scare up another calf yander away! I'm a-gwine to see arter this Injun's har; I am." The hunters, at the suggestion, galloped off to surround the motte. I felt a degree of irresolution and disgust at this cool shedding of blood.
Dish yer man mout a had a name, en den ag'in he moutn't. He mont er bin name Slip-shot Sam, en he mouter bin name ole One-eye Riley, w'ich ef 'twuz hit ain't bin handed roun' ter me. But dish yer man, he in de tale, en w'at we gwine do wid 'im? Dat's de p'int, kase w'en I git ter huntin' 'roun' 'mong my 'membunce atter dish yer Mister W'atyoumaycollum's name, she ain't dar.
The youth nodded. "I mout come anytime, but likely as not I'll hev ter come a-fightin' when I comes." Next, he produced an envelope. "This here is a letter I've done writ ter myself," he explained. He drew out the sheet, and read: "Samson, come back." Then he handed the missive to the girl. "Thet there is addressed ter me, in care of Mr.
"Wal, I 'clar, now, jes de quarest ting ob 'bout all dis matter o' freedom is de way dat it sloshes roun' de names 'mong us cullud folks. H'yer I lib ober on de Hyco twenty year er mo' nobody but ole Marse Potem an' de Lor', an' p'raps de Debble beside, know 'zackly how long it mout hev been an' didn't hev but one name in all dat yer time.
Follow me, my bonny lad, For I'll not follow you. "Wi' heart in mout', in hope and doubt, My lovers come and go: My smiles receive, my smiles deceive; Shall they not serve you so? Heigho! the morning dew! Heigho! the rose and rue! Follow me, my bonny lad, For I'll not follow you." It was a delight to hear her. "There now, I'll give yer my token. Hold out yer hands!"
I 'low'd the crows mout be afeard Of a man made outen straw. I 'low'd the crows mout be afeard, But laws! they warn't the least bit skeered, They larfed out, "Haw! haw-haw!" A long-tail squir'l up in th' top Of that air ellum tree, A long-tail squir'l up in th' top, A lis'nin' to the acorns drop, Says, "Sh! sh-sh!" at me.
He was as garrulous as a magpie, and as opinionated as a Southern white always is. Halting in front of our car, he steadied himself by planting his staff, clasping it with both lean and skinny hands, and leaning forward upon it, his jaws then addressed themselves to motion thus: "Boys, who mout these be that ye got?"
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